Upon a Moonlit Night
by Lauren Eli
Summary: Hamilton is about to make the biggest decision of his life.
1. Default Chapter

**A Quick Note:** I'm assuming that the episodes took place during the summer between their freshman and sophomore year. So Fall 2000 - Spring 2001 would be their sophomore year, Fall 2001 - Spring 2002 would be their junior year, et cetera. It may not be that important, but just to clear up any confusion.   
  
**Thanks:** To Debi, who devoted so much time to helping me with the story, and Sue, who always lets me bounce ideas and very, very rough stories off of her. 

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_~May 16, 2006~_

    Love lies in the simple things, and that's where he found it. In the unique compilation of all the quirks and nuances that made her Jake, things like tugging on her hair when she was nervous. The less sleep she had, the more sarcastic she became. How her mother seemed to annoy her to no end, but she was always secretly thrilled when she found out her mother was coming to visit. The smug smile of hers when she was ruthlessly beating him at yet another computer game.   
  
    Though he was known to complain often, he secretly loved all these things about her, but he couldn't tell her that. It would give her the complete satisfaction of knowing she had him wrapped around her finger. Instead, he reserved these thoughts for himself and enjoyed a private smile when she did one of them.   
  
    He sat across from her in the rowboat, which rocked gently with the lapping waves. The wind blew just enough to give what would have been a warm spring day, a cool breeze. With a clunk of the plastic bottles, he made the toast 'to us.' She gave him a mischievous smile and raised her eyebrows as she brought the water bottle to her lips. She knew something was up. It wasn't because they rarely picnicked, and yet here they were, on the lake, borrowing the school's boat to enjoy an evening dinner together. And it wasn't because Hamilton had meticulously organized this event; he was never meticulous about anything. It was in his eyes, which, in addition to all the normal spark and love, betrayed his slight nervousness. His movements were sharp and focused, instead of his usual easy going and relaxed. She shook it away. It was probably due to being physically near his parents. Things hadn't been the same with his family after the dual shock of Jake's expulsion from Rawley Academy and his mother's affair in the same school year.   
  
    When he thought of Jake, the everyday moments they shared were the first to come to mind. A welcome rhythm had established itself in their everyday life. In the morning, she would bump into him lightly as she made her way into the kitchen. She would set the coffee machine and he would pour their cups. She would make toast, he would get the paper. He'd lay on the couch reading the newspaper, pretending to be keenly interested in an article, and she'd plop down on top of him.   
  
    "Readin' anything good?" Her face was hidden from his view by the sports section.   
  
    "Just some useful stock market tips."   
  
    Chuckling, "Is that so...?" she tore the paper away and looked at it. "Well, rumor has it the best tips are usually found in the business section," smirking before she leaned down to kiss him, both shaking with laughter. He loved to make her laugh, to witness her smile.   
  
    He liked the fact that their fights were never really fights at all. Rarely were they angry at each other for an extended period of time. It came to the point that one of them would erupt with laughter during an argument at the immaturity of what they were fighting over. Which would then cause the other one to glare momentarily before dissolving into hysterical laughter, too. He loved her at that moment. She would stop to stare at him angrily for chuckling at her, then a slow smile would find it's way onto her face before she playfully punched him and pushed him onto the couch or bed. After six years together, he knew exactly what to do to make her forget her anger. And he loved how she hated that.   
  
    His worn brick house was visible over her shoulder. He barely remembered what it felt like to be the dean's son, the outsider. Maybe he just suppressed it so he wouldn't have to. It had been a hard time, especially after she had left.   
  
    The day her mother had come to take her home was still painfully clear in his mind. November 9, 2001, it was a Friday and unseasonably warm. She wore a flowing purple skirt that rested below her knees and white short-sleeve shirt. Her outfit had caused some commotion and rude exclamations in the dorm, but they hadn't cared. They just walked hand-in-hand down the corridor, without stopping or noticing. Will and Scout had been nice enough to help carry some of her things. They parted with 'We'll survive this','I love you's, and weak smiles, but both secretly had their doubts. They had seen each other almost every day for more than a year, could they survive without that close proximity? Did their love mean anything if they weren't there to physically show it, in all the touches, kisses, laughter, smiles?   
  
    He had brought her back here for a reason. It wasn't just for his parent's wedding anniversary; that was just an easy excuse to tear her away from her college courses. No, this was where it all began. The dock where they had first met. The lake where they had spent so many afternoon hours. Finn spouting some grand ideas or theories about youth and opportunities. In the beginning, it had been invigorating to hear such passion, but it soon became repetitive and boring. He used the same five theories and reworded them into a hundred different speeches. Or it could be that his memories were baised. After all, Finn had been sleeping with his mother, so his opinions changed abruptly that year. He reminded himself that he was over this; he had forgiven, his parents had forgotten. They managed to establish level of denial that Hamilton didn't understand. He reasoned that it came from a long marriage built on a foundation that neither was willing to admit was unstable. And it was likely because of him, too. Maybe without him, they wouldn't have had a reason to stay together and divorced long ago. It was an odd feeling to know his parents probably wouldn't have made it to their thirtieth anniversary if he hadn't been a part of their lives.   
  
    Finn had been quietly asked to leave and he complied. Hamilton hadn't seen him since, and he hadn't wanted to. All the feelings of betrayal, hurt, confusion, doubt - they would all come rushing back. They had been more than enough the first time, he didn't need a repeat performance. He still remembered everything clearly....   
  


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_Feb. 15, 2002_   
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    The door slowly creaking open, Finn and his mother kissing, the dining room wallpaper spinning before his eyes, his breath catching in his throat. The dean's office with his father shouting at Finn; his mother crying as she sat on the couch. Focusing on the framed picture of his family which sat on his father's desk. He let the concentration drown out the chaos around him.   
  
    In the picture, they were all smiling. His father had his arms around Kate and Hamilton and they were all smiling. It was taken after Hamilton had won a local photography contest. When had it changed to this? Wondering who was the next to betray him. Will? Scout? Jake? Himself? Not being able to breathe normally, always holding his breath waiting for something bad to happen. Turning from that dark oak office. Turning from the people who betrayed him and running. Running down the dark halls past Jake's old room. Running away from it all. Collapsing in the woods, cutting himself on broken branches, he didn't notice, he didn't care. Letting the dark of the night engulf him, he stared at the stars and the full moon. The man on the moon seemed to grin at Hamilton. Taking out his wallet, he stared at the picture of her. Tracing over her features as she smiled back at him, wondering if she was also watching the stars at that moment. Crying...he was supposed to cry. Men didn't cry. But it was to become the first of many nights.   


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    "Hamilton," she reached her hand out to rest on his knee, "You okay?" Her brow crinkled with worry.   
  
    "Yeah," bringing his gaze from the curved center of the boat to her bright hazel eyes, he smiled, "Yeah, I am." He took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles.   
  
    "You just...looked kinda far away."   
  


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_Feb. 17, 2002_   
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    Hamilton had shown up at her doorstep in New York, begging to see Jacqueline. He carried no suitcase or backpack, only the clothes he was wearing. He was exhausted and dirty from his unplanned journey to New York. Consuela's heart went out to him when she opened the door, silently leading him to the dining room where Jake was finishing dinner. She had dropped her plate of food at the sight of him. His hair was unkempt, his clothes were a mess, and there were dark circles under his eyes, like he hadn't slept in days. The truth was he hadn't. He hadn't slept since he ran out of his father's office in New Rawley two days prior. He felt like the polar opposite of her at that moment. She looked beautiful in her expensive clothes, standing in her clean, perfect house.   
  
    He remembered she threw her arms around him, not caring about dirtying her dress. Her fingers ran through his hair, gently shifting his head until his chin rested on her shoulder. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and reveling of the sense of her around him. She was the only thing that seemed right in his broken life. He felt it then, deep in his stomach, like he had leaped off the empire state building. He loved her, more intensely than he had ever thought possible. Pulling away, he held her face in his hands and mouthed,'I love you,' because he couldn't find his voice to convey the emotion. A smile spread across her face, the truest smile he'd ever seen, "I know," she whispered as she pulled him back into the hug. They stood like that for several minutes, swaying together. Jake rubbing his back gently; Hamilton resting his head on her shoulder. It seemed too soon when they broke apart.   
  
    She led him to her bedroom, taking out some of her boy clothes and laying them on the bed. With a quick kiss, she left him to wash up and change. Turning slowly, he took in her room. It was so different from who she was; her mom must have decorated it. The walls were painted purple with a suede texture. A canopy of sheer violet material floated five feet above the bed and the edges draped to the floor. A white comforter embroidered with purple, green and blue butterflies completed the bed. But traces of Jake peeked out in random places; her computer sat on the desk with music playing; the letters from Hamilton lay stacked next to her bed; a small collection of books filled a short mahogany bookcase on the opposite end of the room. The room was much like him. He was Hamilton, but at unexpected times, mannerisms he had picked up from Jake would surface and remind him of how she embellished his life.   
  
    Stumbling into the bathroom, he stripped off his shirt and grabbed a washcloth from the neat stack in the cupboard, running it under the faucet. He scrubbed his face and chest trying to clean himself of the dirt and grime and in a way, the events of the past few days. Cupping his hands under the water, he splashed it on his hair, combing it with his fingers. He stopped as he caught himself in the mirror. He looked tired and weary. The exhaustion was catching up to him. He trudged out of the bathroom with a heavy sigh. Sitting on her bed, he pulled off his wrinkled jeans and reached for the clean clothes she had left for him. The shirt was a blue sweatshirt emblazoned with the words RAWLEY ACADEMY. He hadn't noticed that until now. He paused for a minute, holding the sweatshirt in the air, before placing it on his lap. He folded the arms over the heat pressed words, so they were no longer visible and set it neatly back in her open dresser drawer.   
  
    Falling back onto her bed, he stretched out on his stomach and inhaled deeply. It smelled just like her. A flash of silver jumped out at him from her nightstand. Picture frames glittered from her bedside. The one farthest from him was a photo of the whole gang during their sophomore year, taken at the diner. They had been celebrating Scout's sixteenth birthday. The more prominent picture, the one he had given her before she left, sat closest to her pillow. It was a set of two pictures actually. In the first, Jake was sitting on a bench, her hands clasped together, laughing. In the second photo, they sat together, his arm around her shoulders and her arm around his waist. Both smiling as they looked at each other. He was lost in that picture when his eyes closed from the overwhelming exhaustion   
  
    A soft knock on the door woke him up. He must have fallen asleep. He remembered looking at photos, then...nothing. Rolling over, he checked the clock and noted that forty-five minutes had passed. Jake entered the room, raising her eyebrows as she saw him laying on her bed. "Good thing Consuela didn't come in here, 'cause she _so_ woulda read into this the wrong way."   
  
    He glanced down at himself; he was only wearing his boxers. "Um...your pants were too short."   
  
    She smiled and nodded as she approached him, holding out a white paper bag, "Thought you might be hungry."   
  
    Her words reminded him that he hadn't eaten in over twelve hours, a fact which he had managed to forget. "Thanks." He tore the bag open to find a McDonald's hamburger.   
  
    "Whoa, slow down there, Hamilton."   
  
    Smiling sheepishly, he focused on unwrapping his food. Lifting off the bun, he found cheese and extra pickles; just how he liked it. She caught him checking and laughed, "I know how to order your hamburger, thank you very much."   
  
    He lifted his head to meet her eyes, smiling. But his grin faltered and he looked down. He didn't have to see her to know her smile had faded and the mood had shifted imperceptibly.   
  
    "I'm just..." pointing to his jeans on the floor, "gonna take these...and throw 'em in the wash." She gathered his clothes and headed toward the door.   
  
    "Wait - "   
  
    She paused before she turned around and looked at him hopefully.   
  
    "Just..." with a tilt of his head, he motioned for her to come over.   
  
    She placed his clothes in a pile and climbed onto the bed next to him, resting against the headboard. It was a few moments before either spoke.   
  
    "I like your room."   
  
    Laughing, "Yeah?" she glanced around her room. "It's very girlish."   
  
    "That's what I like about it. But...I was a little disappointed...to see posters of Ben Affleck and Edward Norton, but _none_ of me."   
  
    "Well, I was gonna take a life-size cardboard cut out of you, and y'know...make a shrine...but my mom quickly cut down that idea."   
  
    He laughed. Life hadn't been as much fun without her there to make him forget about the horrible day he was having, tease him about an annoying habit or to confuse him with her genuine ability to act like a guy.   
  
    "I missed you."   
  
    Sliding her down until she was even with him, he kissed her softly. Her soft lips, the smell of strawberries, her dark hair tickling his forehead...he missed kissing her and everything that came along with it. Her hands ran over his back, tracing his spine with her fingernails.   
  
    "Hamilton..." she sighed as he kissed her jawline lightly and moved down her throat. He slipped the straps of her dress over her shoulders, pulling the material down slowly. Glancing up at her for approval, he found her eyes closed. It all happened so fast, the hollow of her throat, the valley between her breasts, the center of her ribcage, the dress moved down further, revealing her stomach. Placing kisses above the line of her underwear, he hooked his thumbs under the cloth. He was ready to go all the way; okay, he wasn't ever _not_ ready, but now...it just felt right. He didn't know why, it just did. His hands on her hips, he tugged at the red cloth.   
  
    "Hamilton..." It wasn't the same as before. Her voice lacked the want and desire it possessed earlier. He felt her hands on his shoulders trying to pull him up, but he continued to place kisses on her warm skin as he lowered her underwear.   
  
    "Hamilton, stop...now." He glared angrily and her before rolling away and staring at the opposite wall. Scooting into a sitting position, she pulled her dress back on and adjusted her bra. Sulking at the rearrangement of her clothes, he crossed his arms over his chest and exhaled loudly.   
  
    "Hey," she turned him back so he faced her, but he didn't meet her eyes. "Don't make this my fault. You haven't seen me in four months and the instant you get here you wanna jump me?" Grabbing his chin, she forced him to look at her, "That's not you, Hamilton. Ok..." she rolled her eyes, "...not entirely you." She laid down next to him so their faces were only inches apart. "Something's wrong. And sex isn't going to make it go away. Or fix it."   
  
    Sighing, he moved his head until it rested on her stomach and closed his eyes. "Why did I have to fall in love with a girl who actually understands me? You just couldn't be a ditzy blonde in it for the sex. No, you had to be smart, funny, beautiful, caring..." By now he was starting to mutter to himself.   
  
    "I'll take that as a compliment. Besides it wasn't too hard to figure out when you show up at my apartment, unexpected, looking like a bus dragged you here." Her voice took a soft turn to serious, "Ok, so I promised myself I wouldn't ask, because you would tell me when you were ready. But...what happened?"   
  
    "Do I have to tell you now?" He sounded so innocent, like a young child at that moment. He hadn't meant to sound that vulnerable. He could act tough with everyone else, but not with her.   
  
    "No, but you are gonna need to call your parents soon. They're probably going crazy-"   
  
    "No!" He cried, looking up at her and shaking his head with desperation. He needed her to understand that everything he had done in the past few days was to get away from them and the situation facing him back at home. "I can't call them. I can't listen to her voice right now. If I hear another 'I'm sorry' or 'You won't understand' or 'Everything will be all right,' I'm going to throw myself off a twenty story building. 'Cause it's not....it's not gonna be okay. Ever again."   
  
    "Hamilton, what the hell happened?"   
  
    He couldn't put it off any longer. It was real, it had happened, but it still wasn't quite believable. All too much like a bad nightmare then wouldn't end. He was waiting to wake up in bed, covered in sweat, but relieved that it was over. Once he told her, that ceased to be a possibility.   
  
    "My mom and Finn were together..." The image of them in the dining room was permanently etched in his brain. He doubted he'd ever be able to forget.   
  
    "And by together, you mean...?"   
  
    "An affair. A liaison. A fling. Whatever the fuck you wanna call it, they were together."   
  
    She flinched, almost as if it had happened to her instead of him.   
  
    "Wha...but..." She paused for a moment to clear her thoughts. "How long has it...?"   
  
    "I don't know. I didn't stick around long enough to get any actual info, I just kinda freaked out and ran."   
  
    "What are you going to do now? Are your parents gonna get divor-?"   
  
    "I don't know!" He interrupted her curtly. "I didn't come here to get barraged with a thousand different questions!"   
  
    "Well, why did you come here, Hamilton?" She snapped back at him before she had the chance to think. He saw her face soften; her eyes became apologetic, "I'm sorry, Hamilton. I...I didn't mean-"   
  
    "Can we just not talk about it right now?" He didn't have the energy to bicker, to think, to do anything but sleep.   
  
    "Yeah."   
  
    He laid his head back on her stomach, closing his eyes as she pulled a pale purple blanket around him. Her name was embroidered on the corner in a darker shade of violet. The last thing he recalled was tracing the cursive lettering, JACQ, with his fingers and the feeling of calm as she ran her hands gently through his hair.   


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    Life is strange. People are strange. Situations are strange. He learned this early on, possibly earlier than any ignorant and carefree teenager should. Yet, knowing this made the world a little less complicated. Understanding that unexpected situations arose at any time, made them a little easier to deal with when they did.   
  
    Nothing good was supposed to come from his mother's affair with Finn; that wasn't the natural order. But his uncertainties and fears about their long distance relationship diminished after his impromptu visit to her apartment. Seeing her for the first time in months, feeling her body next to his, hearing the concern in her voice...how could he ever have doubted them? Love...it emanated from her, like an aura that made her radiate with beauty and happiness.   
  
    Contentment. It was an overwhelming feeling, so much that it seemed nothing could ever be wrong again. Tranquility. He never wanted to move from her side again. Love. Someone else, of their own free will, chose to love him. He was at a loss, every positive emotion he had ever felt combined together couldn't compare with what love felt like. It was all of them, and more than he could describe. Yet, he couldn't tell her because to vocalize these feelings would call for understanding them. He didn't want to understand, there was no remedy for something unless it could be straightened out, origins found, and emotions determined. And if love was an illness it should be an incurable one.  
  



	2. Part 2

    The last to surface to mind were always his doubts. Memories of the times when 'I love you' hadn't been enough to overcome what they were facing. The guilt twisted his stomach and he fought to push it away. She had forgiven him, he needed to believe that....   
  


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_2002:_   
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    He stayed in New York for the last 4 months of his junior year. Attending a private school outside of New York City and living with his aunt. The affair had hit his family like an unforeseen tornado. His life had been solid and stable in one instant, and torn apart in a million different pieces, scattered across a mile wide search area, the next. Even if all the debris were to be found, it could never be glued back together in the same manner as before. The events changed him; he knew it. And Jake - smart, clever, perceptive, caring Jake - she knew it, too. His ability to trust diminished and with it went the power to love and the energy to keep friendships.   
  
    The thing he most regretted in his life, the one thing he would never let himself forget - was that he gave up. On her, on them, on living, he gave up on them all. He remembered that it had all seemed so pointless. Their love would eventually end in heartbreak, so why bother loving more now only to hurt more later? When did a teenage romance become the real thing? Could it ever...or would their innocence and immaturity hinder the development of their love into a capable, adult relationship? The questions plagued him, day and night...screaming painfully whenever she was near. It hurt to look at her and it was easy hate her for living such a seemingly easy life. Some part of him was convinced that he held more pain in his heart than she could ever know.   
  
    So when her mother was diagnosed with breast cancer in April of her junior year and the tabloids only covered Monica Pratt's impending demise, Jake needed him more than anything - and he abandoned her. She was crying. She had never cried, not even in front of him. The thought of losing her sole parent, a woman who barely knew her, yet called her a daughter, left Jake unguarded and exposed. Her emotions were open to view and it reminded Hamilton too much of himself. He fled. Running to free himself from this doomed relationship, from her vulnerability which hit a little too close to home, and from the leap of trust that he wasn't willing to take. It felt right in that moment, to forget anyone else existed and concentrate only on himself. He believed he deserved that option. They had been 'us' for so long that he was beginning to forget who 'Hamilton' was. And if there was one thing he hated, it was not being sure of himself.   


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_Sept. 5_   
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    And he had almost forgotten about her, as much as six months apart and extreme denial could allow. He regarded himself as successful. Beating what he considered an unhealthy addiction to the instability of love. That was until he saw the sub-headline of National Enquirer as he stood in line at the grocery store: _Monica Pratt and daughter battle illness together._ He grabbed the copy and thumbed through it until he found the correct page headed 'Like mother, like daughter.' A gruff, impatient cough behind him signaled the line was moving. Stepping forward, his eyes never left the page:   
  
    _'After learning about her mother's illness, Jacqueline Pratt decided to help, in her own unique way.'_ He couldn't help but smile. When she did anything, it was always in her own unique way. _'The chemotherapy and radiation treatments Monica endured eventually lead to extreme hair loss.' _   
  
    He turned the page to continue the article and was surprised to find a picture of Jake and Monica staring back at him. Jake's short hair, shorter than it had ever been at Rawley, was evident as she leaned over her mother's hospital bed with a weak smile on her face. She had chopped off all her hair. The long, wavy lengths she had been so glad to have back, were gone to ease her mother's struggling. A bold, boxed quote caught his attention: _'I've had enough love in my life to know when something doesn't go your way, you have to fight for it.'_ He looked back at the picture, noticing the sense of loss and pain in her eyes. It was then that his stomach fell from his body and his heart rate quickened to an unhealthy pace. _You have to fight for it. You have to fight for it._ Her words echoed in his mind and he could picture her saying them. Her eyes squinted in a determined face, her arms crossed over her chest in a sign of defiance and confidence. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have turned away from her? The countless times she was there for him, knowing when to listen, when to argue, and when to lighten the mood. The one time he could have helped her, he was too self-involved to notice how much it took to expose her emotions to someone. He decided then and there that he would fight to rediscover what he had selfishly given up - their love.   


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_Oct. 14_   
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    It had taken many unanswered phone calls, many returned letters before he had finally gotten through to her. And then, it was completely by accident. It was fall of his senior year and he was back in New York for the week, checking out colleges. New York City in the spring had done it to him. He loved the nightlife, the art, the way he could walk out onto the street and see all the people and know that his problems didn't matter to the world. It forced him to forget. He was determined to find a college in the city that rushed with madness, making New Rawley seem insignificant. He walked down the street, studying the shops he had been in so many times and smiling at the excited tourists. He had been like them not so long ago. It was lunchtime when he ran across the Sbarro's where Jake and he had frequently eaten. Out of some sort of wistful reminiscence or comforting nostalgia, he went inside and sat at 'their' booth, not bothering to get food. He knew he looked strange, but at that instant, it didn't matter. He felt close to Jake as he stared at the cracked vinyl seats and laid his palms flat on the plastic tabletop. And for a fleeting moment, he thought that this might be as close as he would ever get to her again.   
  
    Before he had time to convince himself that would never be the case, he heard an incredulous scoff and looked up. She was there. Jake was there. He blinked to make sure that this wasn't a self-induced hallucination to keep alive his hope of one day seeing her again. But he knew it wasn't. If his brain were to conjure up an image of her, it wouldn't have been this one. She stood ten feet from the table, holding a tray of food in her hands. Her face was twisted in anger and the look in her eyes - he couldn't describe it. Loathing, hurt, hopelessness and pain - it was all that and more.   
  
    Turning away from him, she muttered, "I can't believe this." She dumped her fresh, untouched slice of pizza and drink into the trash and stomped toward the door.   
  
    He sat, dazed, in the booth, wondering if any of that really happened. She looked great, in the instant before hatred had taken over her face. Her hair was a few inches longer than it was in the tabloid picture and stood up in a messy, but cute, sort of way. The pale blue sleeveless shirt showed off her summer tan and her jeans were low-cut, revealing her midriff. He launched himself out of the seat and through the door, barely registering the faint ding of an entry bell. Looking around quickly, he spotted her spiky hair, bobbing down the sidewalk amid a mass of people. New Yorkers are not polite, he noted to himself as he pushed through the crowd and heard more than his fair share of offensive phrases.   
  
    "Jake! Wait!" He was only a couple of paces behind her, but she didn't stop. In fact, she picked up her pace until it rested somewhere between power-walking and a slow jog. "Jake," he grabbed her arm, out of breath. "Hold up a minute."   
  
    She yanked her arm out of his grasp and turned to face him. "What, Hamilton? You wanna apologize again for being such an ass? 'Cause I don't really give a fuck." Twisting away, she clomped off, her heels making angry clicking noises on the cement.   
  
    He jumped ahead of her, before she could veer around him, and held onto her shoulders. "Jacqueline. Stop." Closing his eyes, he said, "I'm sorry." He hoped when he opened them, her face would have softened. He was wrong, the apology had only served to infuriate her.   
  
    "So, I guess you want back in my life now. Well, guess what Hamilton? It doesn't work that way. You don't just disappear on someone and then expect to make it all okay with an 'I'm sorry.'"   
  
    "No...I-I know that. I realized that, after all this time apart, what we had...was really good." Looking into her eyes, he searched for some kind of recognition. "We were meant to be, Jake," he pleaded as he squeezed her shoulders gently.   
  
    "Don't you get it Hamilton? No, you wouldn't because you're too God damn selfish. I've been abandoned enough in my life, I didn't need you to add to the list."   
  
    "But...I love you. I've realized that now - I was too stupid before."   
  
    "That's great. Do you even know what that means? 'Cause if you did, you wouldn't have left me. You would have helped me when _I_ needed it." Her voice softened and the edge had vanished from her eyes, "I can't trust you anymore."   
  
    "Just give me one more chance. I know I've had a million 'just one more chances'...but please, Jacqueline. Please."   
  
    "I can't." Shaking her head, she looked away from him. "I just can't."   
  
    He sighed. "Okay," nodding his understanding as he removed his hands from her shoulders. "Okay." That was it...that was where his hopes ended.   
  
    "Goodbye, Hamilton." She walked away. Everything he lived for, had just turned away, without ever knowing how much she meant.   
  
    "I'm glad your mother's better." He was numb to all the feelings that ran through him. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would stay that way forever.   
  
    She halted abruptly and slowly spun around. "How did you know about that?"   
  
    "I read about it. In National Enquirer." Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out the battered article and picture of Jake with her mother and handed it to her.   
  
    As she looked at it, she ran her hands through her spiky hair, tugging on the ends. "My hair," she said, smiling as she stared at the ground, remembering. "I cut it all off. It reminded me of Rawley. And you." Laughing, she rolled her eyes, "God, I looked so hideous."   
  
    Taking the photo back, he examined it, "Don't worry, peach fuzz was very in this year."   
  
    Smiling, she resumed her walking and turned to him when he followed next to her. "You hungry?"   
  
    "Yeah. There's this really great Italian restaurant around the corner-"   
  
    "Trionfo?"   
  
    "Yeah."   
  
    "My mom and I eat there all the time."   
  
    "So you wouldn't object to eating there now? With me?"   
  
    "No," she shook her head and led the way.   
  
    It wasn't an instantaneous thing. It had taken time to rebuild their friendship, to reestablish trust.   


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    He didn't know why he was blessed with an understanding and forgiving girlfriend - soulmate? What did he ever do to deserve that? He didn't know. All he knew was that he never wanted to let her go again. There was this dull ache inside of him that only grew in intensity when she wasn't near. They were simple words, so why was he so afraid? Rejection, that was the reason he remained mute. Ignoring what his heart had been telling him for the past thirty minutes.   
  
    "Will you marry me?"   
  
    Had he said the words? Aloud? They had been floating through his head for - he wasn't sure how long. They came with each thought of her. Was the voice he heard just in his head, urging him to ask, or had he really said them?   
  
    She leaned forward, biting her lower lip. It was dusk, the sun had fallen below the horizon and only cast a partial light on their boat. Soon it would be dark. He looked up to the slightly visible stars. Had it really only been four years since he gazed at the same stars from the nearby woods? It seemed like a lifetime ago. The only difference was that she was here with him now, not in a picture, but really here. That alone made it worth remembering. The moonlight reflected from the lake onto her. She looked so beautiful and feminine in her red tank top and rolled up jeans, it was a wonder he ever thought of her as a boy. It was a familiar scene, but he couldn't recall why for a few moments. Until he identified the memory as the first time he really said the words 'I love you'. It was here on the lake, a warm spring night during their sophomore year. She had taken off her sweatshirt in the cover of the darkness and was wearing a red undershirt. He had told her he loved her before, but he hadn't really meant it. Well, he had meant it, but more in a teenage boy-first love sort of way. He didn't understand the significance of the words or the emotion that consumed him until then....   
  


---------------------   
_April 25, 2001_   
---------------------

    For serious discussions they always used the boat at night. The lake was free of people to see or hear what they spoke about. They had been discussing their relationship. Weighing the benefits of 'us' to the drawbacks of being the 'gay couple' on campus. He had just received another threatening letter. They had been subjected to many threats and taunts, and were a little weary of the cost of their romance. But that night's argument was unlike previous arguments. She brought up the subject of leaving. Couldn't she see that would only make life worse? His world would collapse if she weren't there to help hold it up. It took this panic to make him finally confess what he truly felt.   
  
    "Jake, you can't go. You don't...ugh-" Running his hands through his hair, he started again, "I love you." Leaning on the edge of the speedboat, "You can't understand how much I love you. That's what's scary about it, because...because I don't either." The rippling black waves caught his attention and he paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts and examining what he felt.   
  
    "It's not supposed to be like this, y'know? It-It's supposed to be...simple and easy. But with you, it's become so many things. So many emotions that are all mixed together in this confusing way. And I don't like it. I don't like the effect it has over me, the control, the addiction to this _thing_ we have. I just..."   
  
    He threw his hand in the air, he didn't know.   
  
    "But then, there's this other side, where I _do_ like it and I _do_ want it to continue." Sighing, he slipped onto the boat floor, pressing his knees to his chest and picking at the dirt on his shoe. He didn't know what had brought him to this point, this confession, but he was here and he couldn't back down.   
  
    "I just want you to be as confused as I am," he stated each word carefully. "Because, if you're not, then...something's not right. These things that I feel, they aren't one-sided. This _has_ to be love, because these emotions are so complex and confusing...but I don't wanna change them. For once, I'm perfectly happy not understanding something and not needing everything to fit into neat little categories of 'love' or 'friendship' or 'lust' or whatever, it's just- " He stopped, tilting his head back to rest against the built in, plastic chair. There was no moon that night, making the stars stand out against the black sky and shine with a radiant brilliance. "You make all the borders disappear and it just drives me nuts. I mean, one person should not be able to fill all those places. I didn't think it was possible - I never even considered that- "   
  
    The breeze picked up, ruffling his hair like her gentle touch. He thought he saw the stars twinkle and wink at him, yet knew it was just his imagination. The realization hit him at the same time. It felt like a weight was lifted from his body. Closing his eyes as the warm night wind encompassed him, he smiled, wishing he could stay like this forever. "But you do...and...." the confusion cleared from his face as he opened his eyes and stared at her, "I love you." She looked at him then, much the same way she was now. Her eyes glassy with tears, but smiling vibrantly.   


---------------------

  
  
    Her chin quivered and she placed a shaky hand over her mouth, laughing at her emotion. The rowboat rocked as she pitched forward and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him tenderly. Before she said anything, he knew and released the breath which he had been holding for four years - ever since Finn and his mom. In rehearsing this moment, he had given her lines and a voice that in no way compared to the emotion that she displayed now. Pure joy, love, and excitement. Her body shook from the combination of soft laughter and controlled crying as she whispered the words he had been waiting to hear. The words he had been waiting the past six years to hear, maybe the words he was born to hear her say:   
  
    "Yes. I'll marry you."   
  


[The End]


End file.
